


Watching You

by keelywolfe



Category: Transformers, Transformers (2007), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M, Sam W. & Bumblebee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the 2007 movie, after Sam has purchased his car but before he knows exactly what he's gotten into. Strange things are happening in Sam's life. As per normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Watching You  
>  **Author:** Keelywolfe  
>  **Fandom:** Transformers: Bayverse **  
> ** **Pairing(s):** Sam/Bumblebee

**Notes:** This was written upon request for **sweetdulci**.The prompt was, in essence, for something slightly AU in which Sam doesn't know Bee is an Autobot and is in the backseat of the car doing...ahem. Hope this is what you were looking for. *G* I wrote most of this while I was at a fan convention. It's a bit of a tradition that I write smut while I watch the art auction. Who am I to argue with tradition? ;)

* * *

On day three of owning a car, Sam decided that his life would be weird no matter what he did.

Not bad, maybe, not the kind of life that anyone was going to make a documentary about that people could watch on Lifetime, shaking their heads as they wondered how such a nice young man could have gone wrong and pitied his parents. Nothing like that, thank god.

But it was weird. For starters, he'd finally gotten his car. The Car. He'd taken it to school twice now and had gotten an equal share of jeering and envious looks, pretty much what he was expecting. Give him a couple of months and some elbow grease and Sam was hoping he'd shift the balance in that equation. Only thing was, something was fucked up with the radio and Sam didn't have a clue how to fix it. It changed channels all the time, sometimes picked up stations he'd never even heard of and couldn't find on Google.

But whatever. He'd just get a new radio eventually and he could cut another notch in his belt of normalcy.

Weirder though, was the fact that Sam was starting to think he was getting a stalker. He'd noticed him first at the gas station when he'd stopped to fill up his new ride. While he'd been standing there, trying to get the surprisingly stubborn gas cap off, Sam had noticed a blond guy in a yellow t-shirt watching him on the sidewalk. Nothing strange about that except he'd really been _staring_ , in a sort of I-want-to-eat-your-brain way. It'd made Sam uncomfortable enough that he'd finally given up on getting gas and hoped that the gauge was right when it said he had half a tank.

He'd driven off, blond guy watching him the whole time, had gone to school and forgotten about it. Until school was over and Sam was headed to the student parking lot. Across the lot, Sam had caught a glimpse of brilliant yellow, had turned his head to look without really thinking about it. He'd almost tripped when he recognized the guy. Standing about thirty feet away, other students walking past him and paying him no mind. Blond guy was perfectly still and staring at him.

It was _weird_. Sam had just about made up his mind to go ask the guy what the hell his problem was when someone plowed into him from behind and almost knocked him over. By the time they'd gotten past the 'sorry, mans' and Sam had looked back, blond guy had been gone.

He'd seen him a couple of times since then. Always wearing the same shirt, always staring. Sam didn't think the guy was much older than he was but he couldn't remember actually seeing him in school.

Seeing someone once was...eh. Twice was a coincident. Three times and as far as Sam was concerned, that math added up to stalker. Sam did know a decent amount about that; he'd had plenty of practice, of the non-threatening, non-creepy variety, thank you very much.

There were only two problems he really had with having a stalker. The first was simple, it was a guy. A really pretty guy, no question about that, but Sam wasn't gay. Not that there's any problem with being gay just that Sam wasn't, he wasn't in the mood to experiment, and he was not having any problems with his sexual identity. All he wanted was what any healthy heterosexual teenage guy wanted; a lovely pair of breasts, hopefully attached to a lovely girl, that he can touch.

Sam really didn't think that was so much to ask but so far, the universe had disagreed. It really made Sam doubt the existence of karma; as far as the suffering/reward equation went, Sam thought he was about due for something rewarding.

Correction; something to do with sex. He'd rather the car not count in his karma bonus ratio.

Anyway, two issues with a stalker. As previously mentioned, the first was the not-gay thing. Secondly and possibly more important, was that Sam was very experienced in non-creepy stalking but he had no idea if his stalker followed the same code of honor. This stalker might be very much of the creepy variety and the only way to really find out was to wait and see if the guy tried to crawl into his window some night. At that point, creepy was pretty much guaranteed, not that the knowledge would do him much good in the two minutes he had left to live.

So far, though, his nights have been weirdo-free, and Sam had put stalker-boy mostly out of his mind tonight. Probably, he was imagining things. Why would anyone want to stalk him, he couldn't even get the people he _wanted_ to pay attention to him.

But that was going to change. Because now, he had The Car, whose backseat he was currently sprawling in, inhaling the warm, rich smell of leather. A little clunky the car may be, but the seats were surprisingly comfortable. The smooth leather felt like it was made for him, easy to curl into and relax, and it was cool enough even with the windows up. The radio was cooperating for once, growling out smooth, low tunes from a station that Sam didn't recognize.

Great car, or really, would be a great car. A few quirks but that just made it all the better, right? A little wax, a little love, and this beauty would be the envy of the school. Anyone could go out and have daddy buy them an ugly-ass Mustang but fixing up a Camaro with your own hands? Both he and this car would be high on the awesome scale.

It was getting pretty late, the light outside the windows purplish and getting darker. Sam exhaled slowly, thoughts drifting along with the low music as he half-considering the idea of just sleeping out here. No, that would be stupid; as comfortable as the backseat was, he doubted he'd still think so tomorrow morning when he had to crawl out of it, aches embedded into every joint he had. Not to mention his father would have to walk past him to get to his own car in the garage and Sam was pretty sure sleeping in would not be an option at that point. Dad would either laugh his ass off at him or yank him out and put him to work; neither option was on Sam's list of acceptable ways to spend his morning.

Hanging out here wasn't bad for right now, though, and Sam bet it would be much, much better when someone was back here with him.

Someone gorgeous. Someone who would straddle him with bare, honey-tinted thighs, kiss him with soft, full lips that tasted of cherry lip gloss. Dark hair that he could slide his hands into, tangle long strands of it around his fingers as he pulled her down and kissed those sweet, perfect lips, until she let him push his hands under the thin fabric of her t-shirt, feel the velvet-warmth of her bare skin against his palms—

Sam moaned a little, lost in his little fantasy, and let his legs sprawl apart. He slid one hand down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans and thumbed open the fly. For tonight, the skin beneath his hands was his own and sure, maybe the first time he had sex in this car it would be with himself. That was all right, it was just fine. Soon enough someone else would be here with him.

He was already hard, happy to wrap a hand around his cock and stroke, a little gently at first. Make it last, a little, and why not? First sex in his car was a special occasion even if he was just jerking off. Sam rubbed a thumb over the head, sliding it through the slick wetness with a shudder.

A little dimly, Sam realized he could make noise if he wanted to. No one could hear him in here, cushioned behind glass and metal, cradled safely in his car with the music a low backdrop around him. He didn't have to muffle anything, wary of his parents sleeping in the next room. He could squirm a little, dig his heels into the seat and thrust up into the clench of his own fist. He could gasp and pant, feel his shirt riding up and the sweat of his skin gluing him awkwardly to the leather seat. He could close his eyes and really feel it, hidden here in his car, stroke himself hard and dream of someone else doing it—

"Jesus," Sam yelped, trying and failing to scramble back when a firm hand circled his wrist, pulling his hand away. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to, and shock was a great murderer of erections; it certainly killed his when he squinted through the dimness. The only light now was from the dash, the buttons of the radio glowing through the gloom barely enough for him to see but Sam could make out blond hair, the familiar unfamiliarity of his stalker staring back at him.

"How—" the hell did you get in here, Sam was going to say. He'd planned to say it, had it all laid out in his head, riding the train from brain to vocal cords and they'd derailed at the first word into a strangled whimper.

Because suddenly, the hand around his cock wasn't his own. Suddenly, a cool, slightly callused hand had replaced his, moving uncertainly at first and then with more surety as Sam didn't, couldn't protest. His dick, half-wilted from adrenaline-shock, stiffened instantly with a rush of sex-sex-sex. Protest, fuck, no, every part of his body, including the part currently getting stroked by a complete stranger, disagreed strenuously with that course of action. There was no way his brain could win over the rush of a teenage lifetimes worth of hormones. All Sam could do was just spread his legs a little wider and let his almost-definitely-creepy stalker give him a hand job.

 _Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god_. Over and over, all Sam's brain could manage. The music was suddenly louder, a low, throbbing bass that Sam could feel as much as hear, vibrating through him in the same rhythm as the hand on him.

Sam only realized he'd reached out when he felt fabric beneath his hands, a strange, silky texture to the guy's t-shirt and he wasn't _saying_ anything, creepy, creepy stalker. Forcing his eyes to open, Sam looked at him a little wildly, this was past weird, this was on a downward descent straight into crazy-ville, but the blonde guy was only watching him with wide green eyes. He looked almost as shocked as Sam was, his hand moving in tight, quick little strokes and the rest of him almost perfectly still. Like his hand didn't even belong to him, like Sam was the one who'd dragged him in here and put his hand to good use.

"Please," Sam gasped, shivering even though he was pouring off sweat, every part of his back from his shoulders to his hips clinging stickily to the seats. "Please, I don't…you…"

Blond guy jerked as if Sam had woken him up, blinking rapidly before he looked down to where Sam's hands were still resting against his t-shirt. Blink, blink, long lashes fluttering down over green eyes and then suddenly Sam couldn't see anything anymore, a hot, awkward mouth against his own as Blond Guy leaned in and pressed their lips together. Desperate, open-mouthed kisses that made their teeth click painfully, the hand between his legs moving even faster and Sam finally had to reach down and clutch at his wrist, whimpers muffled by the timid stroke of a tongue against his own.

The bass was aching through him and through the seat, heady vibration, and Sam only just kept from biting down as he came, arching up hard as orgasm sent a bright strobe of pounding red to overwhelm him. Barely, Sam felt the wet spurt over his hand, over a hand that wasn't his, fuck, so good, he'd jerked off a hundred times on his own and it had never, never, never been so good as having a crazy stalker.

The music shifted, powerful bass drifting into guitar and Sam listened to it sleepily, the song whispering, asking him, how do you sleep…

Sam answered a little more physically than he'd intended, struggling against it but it was like being drugged, a spiral down into sleep even as green eyes watched him.

* * *

It was still dark when Sam jerked back awake, heart pounding as looked around wildly. The radio was still crooning, a song he vaguely recognized, and the backseat was completely empty.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his gritty eyes, blinking down at himself. All his clothes were in order and perfectly clean, no leftover stickiness on his stomach or thighs, no thick sex-scent still clouding the air. He slumped back against the seat with a groan. Fuck, what a weird-ass dream. A glance at the clock told him it was officially late-o'clock, time to go sleep in an actual bed.

With a wince and a groan, he levered himself out of the backseat and popped the door. "See you tomorrow," he whispered to the car, grinning a little as he remembered the occasional envy in the looks of his classmates. Yeah, it needed some work but he still had a kickass car.

Before he closed the door, a blurt of static came from the radio, and Sam froze as a single line from a song warbled out.

 _"But will you love me, tomorrow…."_

Frowning, Sam reached in to shut it off before the radio could kill his battery, but the lights flickered off before he even touched it. He shrugged it off and turned back to the house. Awesome car, but he really needed to get the radio fixed.

He never noticed green eyes watching him, following his steps into the house. Never noticed him step over to the car, certainly didn't see him fade into nothingness. The radio snapped back on, soothing music playing low. Soon enough, the car would start and drive quietly away, off to send a signal to those who were waiting for it. After the human was asleep, safe in his bed.

The human, young and strange and curious. His dark eyes and hair a curiosity to one not used to seeing such a thing, his appearance appealing on a visceral level. Whose pheromones had registered as _aroused_ tonight and who made fascinating sounds when touched. When Bumblebee had no longer been able to resist touching.

A very, very long time ago, Bumblebee had decided his life would be weird no matter what he did, but right here, with the human's warm scent still lingering in his filters, he decided that perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

-finis **  
**


	2. Static Interference

Sam had to admit to one unexpected bonus. The car cleaned up really well. 

It had taken a decent amount of elbow grease and an almost obscene amount of his dad's expensive cleansers to do it. Add in a thorough google search on the proper way to make a car gleam and the Camaro was washed, exfoliated, decontaminated, polished, and then waxed to a smooth gloss. 

Under the layers of dirt and dead bug parts lay a smooth, perfect shine. It was almost amazing; Sam hadn't found a single scratch to fill and he'd looked. What had looked like damage had only been like, a decade's worth of dirt and his hard work had rewarded with him with a rich yellow bisected with deep black stripes. The glossy shine was made for touching and Sam knew that because he was currently sprawled across it, his hands scrabbling frantically against that smooth finish. A desperate, fruitless search for something to hold on to while the blond guy pushed him a little higher, his mouth sweet and wet against Sam's.

He had no idea if the guy didn't want to talk or just couldn't but it was mattering less and less, Sam yielding against the hands pushing him back, pushing him down against the sun-warmed hood of his car. He barely noticed Bee twining their fingers together, raising both their hands over Sam's head and pinning them gently down. All he knew was that Bee was kissing him hungrily, like he'd be happy to do it for the rest of the night. Deeply, his tongue slick and clever against Sam's more uncertain one, coaxing it into doing things,  _obscene_  things that he'd never even considered. Especially since Sam was fairly sure he hadn't been gay this morning. 

  
~~*~~

The day had started out pretty normal or as normal as Sam ever got. After spending epic amounts of time cleaning his car the day before, he'd woken up stiff and sore, but determined that today would be different. Today he would be normal or better than. Yes, today would begin the rest of his life, he was sure of it. 

Only, it seemed like the rest of the universe hadn't gotten the memo. His mom, having no respect for the amount of work he'd put in the day before, had set him to spending the afternoon doing chores. As if that's what Saturdays were for and no amount of his mom pointing out that he could have gotten up before noon to do them was going to make that better. By the time he'd begged for his freedom, even promising to finish up on Sunday, Sam had gotten to the park late enough that most of the people there were already starting to pack up. 

 _She_  was still there, though. As gorgeous and unattainable as she'd been before Sam had gotten the car, leaning against Trent like his arm was imbedded around her waist. Engaging his own stalker routine was as much a habit as brushing his teeth, only this time Sam had a car to lean against while he stared and made wishes that the universe had been ignoring since Sam had been old enough to make them. 

There was no point in staying. Sam could admit that to himself. He should count himself lucky that Trent was still sitting on the ground because if Sam had been a little closer, he might have gotten a good beating to round out the day. 

"Fuck this," Sam mumbled under his breath. Maybe he'd call Miles, see if he felt like playing a little Call of Duty. Somehow, the idea of blowing the heads off a few people seemed appealing. 

He'd already turned back to his car, his brain moving into Xbox territory, when Sam saw him. Not even ten feet away, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Blond guy. The stalker of Sam's disturbingly wet dreams.

He was staring, just like before, with fathomless intensity and this time, Sam just stared back, like an invisible line was holding him there. What the hell did this guy want, anyway? Sam could stand here and guess or he could…ask. 

Ask a question he suspected he knew the answer or maybe…maybe he hoped he knew. Clear green eyes held his own, blinking slowly, and Sam just stood there, considering. 

Mikaela was still on the grass with Trent, the two of them packing up bottles and blankets, laughing together. Gorgeous Mikaela that Sam had been testing out his own stalking skills on for years.

And then came this. His own personal stalker, the blond guy standing in front of him with his hair blowing lightly around his face in the warm wind as he stared and, yeah, he was waiting. Sam could at least see this and he hesitated, almost took a step back. Only, back to where? Staring at what he couldn't have? He could keep trying for the unattainable or he could go for someone who was right there. Watching him, like he watched her.

Wavering, Sam rested one hand on the hood of his car, and then he closed his eyes, took a breath, and made a choice.

Blond guy didn't move an inch as Sam walked up to him. They were almost the same height, Sam maybe just a little taller. It was plenty warm outside but blond guy still had a jacket on. Not a varsity coat, or at least not one Sam recognized. One arm had a face embroidered on it that made Sam think of stone carvings, sharp, solemn lines. On the front left side, there was a word. A team, maybe a name?

"Hey," Sam said, awkwardly. His own stalking skills had never actually gotten to the greeting chapter. 

Blond guy didn't seem to care. Sam had heard of someone's face lighting up with a smile but it seemed like it had been invented for this guy. One word and he was practically shining, his grin as brilliant as the sun. All because Sam had talked to him. Even knowing this guy had creepy stalker written all over him, it was damn hard not to be flattered when they freaking glowed for you. Almost involuntarily, Sam grinned back, his eyes flicking back to the guy's jacket and the word embroidered on it. Bee. Weird.

"Bee?" Sam asked. "Is that…your name?"

The other guy , Bee, it seemed, gave him another grin and nodded, jerking his chin a little as he tossed his blond hair out of his eyes.

Sam wet his lips and went for option B. Or Option Bee, as it were. "Did you want to take a drive?"

~~*~~

Bee hadn't spoken yet.

To be fair, he hadn't needed to. When Sam had offered him a ride, he hadn't even waited, darting over to the passenger door and barely pausing to give Sam an impatient look. And maybe Sam didn’t have all the social skills a guy needed but he did know how to take a hint, jogging over to his own side and in less than a minute he was driving away. Leaving his own choice of stalking material behind. 

What he hadn't anticipated was how damned hard it would be to keep his eyes on the road. Bee sprawled into the passenger seat like it had been made for him, one leg drawn up and his knees spread wide as he kept to what he did best; staring at Sam. Only now his expression wasn't that blank, zombified look. Now there was a curve to his lips, almost a smirk, his green eyes practically glowing with smoldering heat. The jacket had been discarded and Bee's t-shirt was black and tight, molding to his body the same way the seat seemed to.

It was enough to make Sam shift a little in the driver's seat, his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight. Going from being an unnoticed nobody to the object of pure lust was a little disconcerting and Sam switched on the radio, hoping for a distraction. That was when he discovered that his radio was going to be particularly psychopathic today because every station seemed to be playing the wrong song. From sultry Motown to Nine Inch Nails, every single channel seemed to be crooning sex to him. He gave up when 'Sexyback' yowled out from his last attempt. Okay, no music then.

At no other point in his life could Sam recall having any telepathic ability but between his dream the other night about this very guy and his strangely horny radio, he was starting to wonder if he didn't have some latent mutant talent coming to life. 

The overlook was empty, pretty much the way Sam had figured it would be. No one drove all the way out here, not in their overpriced testosterone mobiles, hell, no. They might actually get a little dirt on those off-road tires. His Camaro might not be made for mud-bogging but it didn't have any trouble with a dirt road and all those hours of scrubbing and polishing didn't seem quite so important.

He pulled up beneath the shade of the solitary tree, the wide branches damping the sweltering afternoon sun. Turned off the car and they sat there, listening to the slow tick of the engine as it cooled. 

With conscious effort, Sam let go of the wheel, rubbing his damp palms against the legs of his jeans. Every ounce of good karma he'd had saved up seeming to be making a beeline towards him getting laid today. Shiny car, pretty blond in said car; even the airwaves had all but tossed someone in his lap. Sam just wasn't quite sure about  _this_  someone and when Bee moved, slowly unfolding himself from his seat to lean over the center console, Sam flinched so hard he was afraid he'd break bones. Inside the car had seemed comfortingly enclosed a couple days ago in his dreams but now it felt claustrophobic. 

Sam was groping for the door handle before he even spoke, blurting out, "The view here is great."

Bee might not have been the chatting sort, but it was incredible how expressive his face was; his eyes that had been on Sam's lips flicked up and he smiled easily, anticipation melting away as he opened his own door. 

It wasn't a lie, the view was brilliant. Acres of green sprawled out below them as they both leaned against the hood. Bee was proving to be the nice, patient kind of stalker, their fingertips barely brushing where they were resting. The silence was growing unbearable, for Sam at least, and finally he sighed, working up the nerve to say something. 

"Look, I don't…I don't normally do this," Sam muttered. He rubbed a hand over his hair and tried to figure out what the hell he wanted to say. Before he could, slim fingertips brushed his cheek, sliding down to his chin and Sam blinked, let them tip his head up as Bee leaned in towards him.

A low blurt of static and Sam blinked, startled, when the radio crooned to life, lyrics drifting out the open window as Bob Dylan droned out, "Don't think twice, it's all right…"

"What…" the hell, Sam almost asked, words biting off on a soft gasp as Bee pressed their mouths together. Soft, soft lips against his own, almost unbearably gentle. Bee didn't press deeper, only let their mouths move together tentatively. Sam heard a faint little noise, couldn't even be embarrassed to realize he was the one who'd made it. All he knew is it felt so, so right to part his lips at the gentle pressure of Bee's tongue. It felt right, felt perfect, to open his mouth to that and meet it with his own. Explore Bee's mouth and he tasted sweet, like slushies and sunshine and all things summertime.

Made it all the easier to let Bee push him backwards, the warmth of the hood bleeding through his thin t-shirt as Sam sprawled on it. A faint whine made Sam blink, the first sound he'd heard the other boy make and maybe he wasn't completely mute, or maybe he really just didn’t like to talk. He never got a chance to ask, his own words tumbling thoughtlessly away as Bee pulled back enough to bite his lower lip, not quite gently. He soothed it with another kiss, sucking on the tiny wound until Sam gasped and arched. Before Sam had a chance to do more than blindly turn towards it, Bee had moved on to Sam's jaw, nibbling little bites down it as he worked his way to Sam's neck.

Fuck, that felt good. Sam groaning aloud as Bee licked down the line of his jugular, pressing hot kisses against where his pulse was hammering. He felt Bee sucking hard, seemingly determined to leave a mark that would be awkward and embarrassing to explain to his parents later but right now was just hot as all holy hell. Bee might not make any noise but Sam was certainly making up for it, with great enthusiasm and volume. 

"Oh, that feels good," Sam choked out as Bee slid a leg between his own, pressing his thigh firmly against the hard bulge at Sam's crotch. 'Good' wasn't even the right word for it but Sam's vocabulary didn't have the experience for him to know what to say when someone was rubbing him through the thick material of his jeans. Just the friction alone was gorgeous. Bee was still mouthing his neck, pushing up Sam's t-shirt and dipping lower, biting him hard enough in the middle of the chest that Sam cursed, scowled down at the circle of reddened marks imprinted in his skin.

"Careful, that—" Sam cut off with a yelp, Bee transferring his mouth to one nipple and sucking. It didn't feel good, exactly, made something rise up on the pit of Sam's stomach that he wanted to writhe against.

Clumsily, Sam caught at Bee's shoulders, his hands hesitating there, gripping, as he tried to decide. Push away or pull in, do or don't, and then the decision wasn't his to make anymore. Bee reared up, green eyes blazing and his kiss was anything but gentle this time, mouth hard and wet and messy as he slid a hand down Sam's belly and lower. His fly gave way with a low pop, the zipper obscenely loud and Bee never hesitated, slid his hand into Sam's boxers and gripping his cock.

"Oh, god," Sam whimpered, barely heard the soft hiss of air, Bee shushing him softly before covering his mouth again with his own. His eyes were watering, the friction of Bee's bare palm on him almost painful but it still felt so good. Sweat was making things at least a little slippery, Sam choking off another moan as Bee pulled back abruptly, his hand moving in quick, hard jerks. 

Slitting his eyes open, Sam saw Bee was watching him avidly; his own personal stalker watching him like he was recording every detail as Sam whimpered and writhed, squirming between Bee and the hood of his car. The metal beneath his hands was glossy-smooth, still warm from the drive and Sam dragged his hands down it, loving the silky feel of it against his palms. 

The sound Bee made startled him into opening his eyes wide. Almost a growl, his eyes practically glowing in his flushed face, and Sam couldn't have anticipated him swooping down, the sudden slick wonder of Bee's mouth surrounding him dragging out a near scream.

"Fuck! Oh, god, oh, god, fuck, that's so good, yes, more," Sam sobbed out, a babbling stream of words escaping him as Bee sucked him, maybe a little clumsily but like Sam had room to complain?

There wasn't time for anything resembling a warning. Sam could only slide his hands into that silky blond hair and arch up, coming so hard his vision blurred, sweat stinging in his eyes as he shook. His hips jerked without his permission, trying to get him a little deeper into the slick, perfect heat surrounding him. 

Bee choked a little, gasping, pulled back and met Sam's bleary look with wide eyes and wet pearl on his lips, a thin trickle down his chin.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, "God, sorry." He leaned up on one elbow, every joint in his body felt too loose and wobbly yet. He almost thought he'd heard a warble of static from the radio, made a mental note to seriously get that fixed as he leaned in and kissed Bee's too-hot, swollen lips. Tasted bitter salt and this was nothing like every fantasy he'd ever had of getting a blow job because none of his fantasies had included blond stalkers. None of them had Bee, pretty and flushed, still sprawled between Sam's spread legs and kissing him eagerly. 

Well, no shit, he was eager, not like blue balls was something to look forward to, and even in his uncertainty, Sam was determined that he wasn't going to be that guy. Took a deep breath before he slid a hand down Bee's chest and between his legs and found…not what he'd expected. He wasn't even hard, what the fuck. 

Sam broke the kiss and met a surprisingly sheepish look, Bee giving him a little shrug and flopping back next to Sam, still breathing heavily, as if he'd…

Oh, duh, he'd probably jerked off while he was giving Sam his first, and thus best fucking ever, blowjob. Sam relaxed back, letting Bee pull him closer and nuzzle ticklish little kisses against his ear.

It was starting to get dark, the crimson streaking the sky darkening to purple. Time to go home. Sam was frankly surprised that his parents hadn't called already. If he didn't get going or at least call in about the next ten minutes, well, Sam didn't need any psychic powers to know his future would hold at the very least extra chores, possibly a grounding. 

Only, Bee's mouth had shifted, both hands on Sam's face, holding him still for slow, sweet kisses, lips sore and still meeting each touch eagerly. Getting ready for round two, fuck, and this time, Sam wrapped his arms around the other boy and rolled, almost taking them off the edge of the hood and to the ground. 

Bee pulled back, laughing soundlessly as he hooked his ankles around Sam's legs and arched up, the easy roll of his hips promising dark, lovely things. 

Oh, he was in so much trouble. His stalker might not be creepy, but he might be something worse. 

Sam pushed it out of his mind, pushed away everything, parents and groundings and uncertainty, and sucked gently on Bee's tongue. Maybe he hadn't started the morning gay but it was starting to look like he was going to end it that way.

-fin


	3. Karma Chameleon

**_10:26pm_**  
\----  
"Enough," Sam begged, "I have to get home—" He was still kissing back, helplessly, his hands cupping Bee's face and holding him still for each desperate, needy press of his own mouth. His lips were achingly sore, he felt incredibly sticky everywhere and he needed a shower in the worst way. 

All in all, it was a great night.

Somehow, they'd made in back into the car, Sam mumbling about his curfew between kisses. He was sure, absolutely sure, he'd meant to be gone by now. Outside the windows it was completely dark, crickets chirping and mosquitoes had been humming their eyewatering song around them by the time he and Bee had rolled off the hood. 

They'd managed to get into the seats, mostly, Bee more in the driver's seat yet than his own. Both their mouths tasted cold from half a roll of mints Sam didn't remember buying that Sam had found in the middle console, part of a feeble plan to get back somewhere in the realm of presentable.

His possessed radio had blazed on, choosing to go a little retro for the evening with a crackling rendition of, 'Baby, you can drive my car.'

Sam could only spare a fleeting thought to car repairs, possibly an exorcism, and then he was groaning into Bee's mouth again and thoughts of curfew were a distant dream.

 ** _10:48pm_**  
\---

"Oh, god, oh, fuck, just…don't…fuck!" Sam's voice cracked, something he might have found embarrassing if he hadn't had both hands tangled into soft, blond hair, his heels braced against the floorboards. It took a minute for him to understand what the pressure of Bee's hands on his hips meant, following them in a daze until he got it, and then he could push up into that slick, hot mouth on his own, the garage around them shrouding them in darkness. 

The wet darkness of Bee's mouth was even better, working him lovingly, worshipfully, because Bee was the best stalker ever and he gave head like he'd had lessons. Like he could  _give_  lessons and Sam wanted so much to be an avid student.

 ** _10:59p_**  
\---

The screen door let loose with a bone-jarring squeal as Sam ripped it open, darting in so quickly that his sneakers squeaking against the tile floor. He staggered in further on wobbly legs, uncoordinated as a newborn giraffe as he leaned against the kitchen counter and he checked his watch against the clock on the microwave. 

Game, set, match.

"I'm home," he gasped out, a measly little thread of sound. He had no doubt his mother could have heard him even if she was in the basement with the vacuum running.

"Hey, sweetheart," his mom called, proving every theory Sam had about mothers correct. Out in the family room, his parents were on the sofa watching a movie. Sam could see an open bottle of wine and relaxed a little. Mom and wine usually meant him getting shipped off to his room, something that usually creeped Sam out. Tonight, though, his room sounded like a haven. After a long, soothing shower to let the water beat a little of the soreness out of him. Sam ached in places he hadn't even been aware he had.

To his surprise, Mom bustled into the kitchen, wine glass still in hand. She gave him an appraising once-over. "And what have you been up to tonight?"

Sam froze and for one brief, insane moment, he was convinced that she knew. This was his mother and she had ways of knowing everything. She'd caught him out a dozen times over, rewarding his efforts in the minor sins with furious abandon by grounding him. And he was convinced that she totally knew he'd upgraded to fornication and that he been out at the overlook, doing dirty, dirty things with a boy who went by a single word that was more noun than name. He felt like it was glowing off him, some kind of hormonal-based neon sign that screamed in large, blinking letters, 'Got Laid'.

"Just...around," Sam croaked out. 

His mom made a little humming sound, pulling out a tray of cheese from the fridge. Ugh, the old folks must have quite a night planned. "That's nice. Get some sleep, sweetie. Make sure you get your clothes down to the laundry room tomorrow morning if you want them washed."

  
"Okay," Sam mumbled back, too shocked to try for anything else. He licked his lips and winced at the soreness. Perhaps it was a week for miracles. There had been The Car, the awesome sex, and now his mother wasn't staring at him like he'd done something unforgivably obscene. It seemed like the pay in from his good karma was rolling in like high tide. 

His mom vanished back into the living room and Sam made his escape, knees wobbling as he staggered up the stairs. 

If he had any dreams tonight, it might be better if he washed his own sheets tomorrow. 

~~*~~

It was a cruel, cruel way to be woken up on a Sunday. His alarm clock must be currently taking cues from his car radio because it blared to life at ass o'clock in the morning, some local crap-rock station and Sam groaned, fumbled out a hand to turn the damned thing off before he pulled a pillow back over his head and went back to sleep.

A soft touch on the back of his hand stilled him, even as the clock radio fell silent and Sam made a fairly good try at jumping out of his skin, nearly falling to the floor as he scrambled back in a tangle of sheets and pillows. 

There, sitting happily on the edge of his bed, was his stalker. He was wearing the same clothes but he looked like he'd managed a shower somewhere down the line, and oh, holy blazing shit, he was in Sam's house, in his room, and possibly going all Fatal Attraction on him, or Single White (Fe)Male, whichever movie was most appropriate for him dying painfully. 

Yanking the blankets over him, Sam had brief moment to appreciate the insanity of it all before he demanded in an urgent whisper, "How did you get up here?" 

Bee's cheery smile faltered, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. Like maybe it had only just occurred to him that breaking and entering wasn't the best way to start the morning, even if had woken Sam up quicker than a caffeine infusion. He gestured at the open window and Sam relaxed, a little. Just the thought of Bee creeping through the dining room, up the stairs and past the room where his father was probably snoring in a horrifying post-coital bliss was a nightmare that Sam didn't even want to consider.

Bee was still sitting there, his smile a little dimmer but he was still as pert and eager as a golden retriever puppy, his hair blond and mussed and begging for Sam to sink his hands in it again.

"Look, you can't just come in here!" Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing his dry eyes as he tried to think. Mornings had never been his strong point, less so on the day after being molested by the guy currently staring at him with his usual eager intensity. "My mom will be up soon and she'll freak if she sees you in here."

The smile dropped off Bee's face so quickly Sam was surprised he didn't hear it shatter on the floor. Wounded green eyes bored into his like accusing little beacons of rejection. 

Oh, for…"Look—" Sam started, looked into those hurt eyes and gave in. To hell with morning breath. He leaned forward hesitantly and kissed Bee, barely more than a tender brush of lips, at first. Sam figured he'd earned the right to do that much yesterday. His lips were still a little sore but it didn't seem to matter when Bee practically melted into it, tongues touching lightly and his lips damp and clinging when Sam pulled away. The dazed look in Bee's eyes was a great improvement.

Sam sighed again. This was probably a really bad idea. "Can you get back down without breaking your neck?"

Bee nodded.

"Okay. If…if you want to go out. With me. I mean, if you want to go somewhere in a little bit, I'll be out there. By my car. You, be by my car and I'll come there. Yeah."  
None of that made any sense to Sam. It was like a couple orgasms had been enough to short-circuit the line between his mouth and his brain so that everything came out in Idiot. Luckily, Bee seemed to get it. He nodded again and went to the window. 

With wary curiosity, Sam watched Bee climb down the trellis like he was freaking Spiderman. He jumped off high enough that Sam flinched, almost expecting a cry of pain. Bee just landed lightly and jogged off towards the garage.

Who the hell was this guy?

Sam flopped back into bed with a groan and left that problem for another time. Right now, he needed a good excuse for his mom to let him do chores later. Again.

He hoped a weakness to puppy dog eyes was a genetic trait.

~~*~~

Later, he had time to be grateful he'd thought to bring a blanket this time. The overlook was abandoned, as usual, and a little further away in the tall grasses surrounding it was even better concealment. But it would have been hell on bare skin. 

Sam groaned, loudly, as Bee dug his thumbs into the taut muscles below his shoulder blades. His mom had given him exactly three hours and an earful of threats before he'd managed to get to the garage where Bee was waiting happily, car door already open. Sam had already been half-hard before he'd started the car.

This, however, wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting when they'd made their escape.

Sure, they were both naked as cherubs, although thankfully better endowed. Instead of eager, fumbling sex, though, Bee had done nothing but rub his back, slowly working his way lower, like maybe he'd been a professional masseur in a past life. Hell, for all Sam knew, he was a professional masseur now, moonlighting as a stalker of teenagers with awesome cars. It was a lot harder to care about little details like that when he was melting bonelessly into the blanket, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth as Bee worked on a particularly sore spot.

Fifteen minutes ago, Sam would have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making, groans of deep pleasure than was nothing like the multiple orgasms he'd been treated to the day before but was still somehow deeply satisfying. Ten minutes ago he would have been both embarrassed and horrified when Bee's hands shifted down to his bare ass, kneading strongly. Now he didn't care if the high school marching band blazed by with a chorus of 'Stars and Stripes Forever,' so long as Bee kept going.

The sun was hot already, blazing down on them. Sweat was pooling in the base of Sam's spine, mingling with the slick oil Bee was slowly coating him in. It smelled a little like almonds, warm against his bare skin as Bee rubbing it into him. He seemed determined to cover every inch of Sam's back, starting at the back of Sam's neck, his thumbs gentle in the tiny hollows beneath his ears. Tracing his way down the bumps of his spine, beneath the curves of his shoulder blades. 

It should have been relaxing, should have been, and Sam had no real excuse for the tremor of tension that was wound through him, the anticipation. His instincts were rewarded at the damp heat of breath in the small of his back and he still had enough shame to tense when Bee pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the curve of his hip. 

A soft, shushing sound, no more than a breath against his skin. The blanket felt rough against his hands as Sam twisted it in his grip, rougher against his aching cock where Sam was helplessly grinding his hips against the ground. He bit his lower lip hard, faintly tasting blood as he tried not to say anything. He wasn't sure what he would say, protest and pleading tangling up in his thoughts like the intangible net he was inexplicably being caught in. 

Breath, ghosting across the bare skin of his back, lower, tracing the curve of his hip. Wet pressure of a tongue against him, leaving a trail of cool slickness as Bee slid down, down, right down the curve of his ass, oh, god…

"Don't," Sam blurted out, his courage finally breaking. Bee stopped instantly and when Sam rolled over to look at him, his green eyes were only curious, not upset.

"Come here?" Sam held out a hand. Bee grinned and went right past it, right into Sam's arms. It left him with a lapful of naked, squirming guy and that felt right in all kinds of ways Sam had never considered. Way too easy to tip his head up, to let Bee press their lips together, deepening their kiss and sliding their tongues against each other. Bee nipped at the tip of Sam's tongue, startling a laugh out of him that melted away when he sucked on the tiny wound.

Sam let Bee push him backwards, the other boy sprawling over him and their bare bodies sliding against each other, both of them getting slippery in the oil glistening on Sam's skin. Their legs tangled together and the line of Bee's erection against Sam's hip was hot and damp and hard. Much as he wanted to just lie back, eyes closed, and let Bee rub against him, Sam couldn't help wanting to see, too, With a great deal of effort, he managed to just slit his eyes open, and the sun, formerly a warm red glow against his closed eyes, dazzled him. Then he didn't need the sun to be dazzled.

The sunlight shining behind him turned Bee's hair into a shaggy halo, casting his face in shadow, and fuck, he was pretty. Head tipped back, eyes closed and soft, pink lips parted as he rocked against Sam. Pretty wasn't a word he'd thought to use when describing a guy. Bee, though, Sam didn't think there was another word he could use. He  _was_  pretty, lean and strong, his fingers slim with blunt nails that were currently digging lightly into Sam's scalp as Bee abruptly clutched his head, swooping down and capturing Sam's mouth with the same soft, pink lips that had been mesmerizing him. 

Kissing them was much better, pressing his tongue between them to tangle with Bee's. One hand abandoned his head, slid roughly down Sam's side before Bee rose up just a little on his elbows, slipping his hand between them to wrap around both their cocks.

Sam managed a startled little gurgling sound, muffled into Bee's mouth, oh, Jesus, he'd never imagined, never dreamed that another guy's dick against his own could feel so, so good. The hand around him was softer than he might have thought, no calluses at all, but the grip was perfect, just tight enough, rubbing both of them together in a quick, quick rhythm that Sam wanted to ride forever.

Forever was a lot more like two minutes, the sound of Bee's hand moving on them turning wet and slick. Bee kissed him hard, his teeth almost painful and Sam did not care, only wrapped both arms around him and held on, arched up in a shuddering rush. It felt like the world blurred around him, bone-deep and desperate. Made him want to cling and hold until gravity reasserted itself and the fire burning pleasure through his blood settled. Christ, nothing this easy should feel so good.

Dimly, he felt the slippery weight of his own come against his belly, felt Bee stiffen and tremble against him and Sam stroked his back, his hair, until the light behind his eyes was only dim and reddish from the sun. 

"What are you?" Sam mumbled, sleepy and lost. His hands felt hot and shaky, tracing little patterns into the bare skin of Bee's back and his chest felt a little tight. He barely knew anything about this guy other than his name and Sam already felt the familiar stirrings of infatuation. It was a good thing Bee was already stalking him because Sam would have had to add him to his agenda. 

He didn't pay any attention to the way Bee went still, lost in the feeling of him gently cupping Sam's head, holding him still for lazy, sweet kisses. It was only the middle of the day, the sun still blazing hot with early spring heat but Sam still found that a nap was on the top of his list right now.

In a little while.

~~*~~

Saying goodbye to Bee, Sam had discovered, was fraught with peril. First, while he was all right with Sam having to leave, he was also very prone to not making it  _easy_  for Sam to leave. His mouth was like an addiction that Sam would be happy to keep, only he had chores to do and the back of his garage was not the greatest place for making out.

Or so he thought, until Bee pressed a wet, sucking kiss against the base of his throat, barely low enough that his t-shirt would cover it. For approximately ten seconds, in his garage, leaning against his car, was the best place ever for making out.

Until he heard a sound behind him and jerked back so hard he almost fell on his ass.

"Sam, I thought I asked you to finish—" his mom was saying and Sam's heart was in his throat, the taste bitter as fear as she trailed off, taking in the two of them standing in the darkest corner of the garage. Yeah, nothing suspicious here, move along parental unit. 

"Oh, hello," Mom said, brightly, carrying the box in her arms over to the corner where she sat it down with a little grunt, dusting off her hands. "Who's your friend, Sam?"

"He doesn't talk," Sam blurted out instead of a name, just like an idiot who'd almost been caught doing bad, bad things.

His mom's gaze sharpened, sealing their doom, Sam was certain. "Oh, I see." To Sam's surprise, she gave Bee a smile and started signing, speaking slowly along with her hand movements, "It's nice to meet you."

Bee, who had been standing a little behind Sam looking just about as awkward as expected for a stalker meeting his stalkee's mom, smiled brilliantly and started signing quickly. His mom laughed and shook her head, her hands much slower. "Not too fast, I'm rusty."

For a moment, Sam felt a rush of petulant jealousy. His mom was talking to  _his_  stalker in a way he hadn't yet managed...although, to be fair, talking had been a secondary concern thus far. He'd known his mom could sign; her sister, Aunt Jody, had been born deaf. She lived across the country though so Sam had only ever known the basics and those were mostly forgotten. 

"A new exchange student at Sam's school," Mom said aloud, obviously for Sam's benefit. "Oh, you should have your host parent over and we can all have dinner together! Ron and I talked about hosting a student once—" Mom babbled on, though at a slower pace than usual, her hands moving along.

Bee's smile never wavered but Sam didn't think he imagined the look of panic in his eyes. It made him wonder just how true whatever Bee was telling his mom was. 

"Mom, um, I'll finish up raking in a few minutes, I promise," Sam interrupted, lest his mom manage to frighten off his stalker permanently. No need for anything drastic, yet, the breaking and entering thing had ended within acceptable parameters. "Bee needs to get going, anyway."

Bee, Sam was relieved to notice, seemed to catch on quickly, giving Sam a wave and his mom some kind of sign that he hoped was 'Goodbye' and not, 'Be back to have more sex with your son later!' He backed out of the garage with another little smile for Sam and vanished around the corner. 

And it was then that Sam knew his luck had run out, his heart sinking as his mom crossing her arms over her chest and gave him a serious look. "I think maybe we need to have a talk, don't you?"

Sam sighed. Karma was, after all, a bitch. 

  
~~*~~

"Have you fried your logic circuits?"

"…"

"No, I don't care what he was doing, you can't just—"

"…!"

"—in the backseat?"

"…"

"Oh, I did not need to know that. Human body fluids are corrosive, I hope you washed."

"…"

"You did what?? I can’t…that is quite possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Humans do that? It borders on vampirism---!"

"---how did it taste?"

"…!!!"

"All right, all right, no need to shout. And now you're crawling to me because you need someone to play parent for you."

"…"

"You realize this violates several ethical codes regarding interaction with organic species. You think I don't know why you're asking me and not the others? I may not have Prowl's tactical computers but I can do simple math! I'm the only one who could both do it properly and would do it without giving you a court martial for your troubles. Only I won't and don't you dare try that pleading look with me, I'm immune. "

"….?"

"Bee…"

"…??"

"Oh, stop, my optics are going to start dripping in sympathy. All right, all right. I'll help you so you can keep up with your wretched perversions, you deviant."

" :-) "

"….can I watch?"

\--fin


	4. Academic Interruptions

Life had, thus far, been disappointingly normal for Sam Witwicky. Not that he was expecting to maybe save the world or anything before he'd even graduated high school, but he had been hoping for something along the lines of a girlfriend, perhaps a rousingly short career as the most popular guy in school. But despite what all the teen movies had led him to believe, he hadn't gotten his montage of bouncy music or even his slow clap yet. So far, he was occasionally acknowledged, mostly forgotten, guy who sat in the middle row in the middle of the room, with marks that were just enough below the level of alternating the grading curve that he didn't get his ass kicked on too regular a basis. 

Or at least, that had been the status quo as of last Friday. 

On this Monday morning, as he sat slumped over his bowl of Cap'n Crunch, Sam was sleepily pondering just what might happen today. Somehow, over the course of the weekend, he had turned from an undersexed nobody to the boytoy of one hot blond guy who couldn't talk. 

So the hell what if it wasn't a girlfriend? He'd wanted his life to be more interesting; who was he to complain about the way his wishes were granted when they came in that packaging. 

"Sam, straight home after school today," his mom said as she came into the kitchen, patting his head in that absent, parental way that made him mumble a useless protest. There was the one problem with his wish granting--

"Bee can come over if you want, but if you don't finish cleaning the garage—"

"I know, mom," Sam groaned. 

"If he does come over, let me know if he wants to stay for dinner. I'm making lasagna—"

"Mom…"

"—so we'll have plenty—"

"Mom, I don't even know if he…"

"But I'd like to know if we'll need more garlic bread because I'll have to go to the store--"

"He might not even…"  
"—And I'm sure your father would like to meet him," his mom added, bustling around, putting the cereal back in the cupboard before Sam could protest that he wasn't done with it. At the point she mentioned his dad, Sam promptly gave up, quickly rinsing his bowl in the sink and making for the door before she could start with wedding plans or something. Not that it was legal in the state but Sam was sure if he showed the slightest bit of interest in shopping for engagement rings, his mom would be at the Capitol building with signs and petitions in hand. 

Their discussion yesterday had not gone quite as expected. 

Well, it had been less discussion and more like Sam standing there while his mom lectured him about open-mindedness…like he was the one who needed a scolding. He was the one who'd been caught making out with his…er…boyfriend? Stalker? Sam wasn't really clear on the titles just yet. Definitely a guy, though, and his mom thought he needed a speech on prejudices?

When she'd shifted to the subject of safe sex, Sam had, for the first time in his life, pleaded chores and made a break for it. Mowing the yard and raking grass had never before been such a relief. He'd managed to avoid both his parents for the rest of the day, flopping into bed after showering away a day of actual hard labor. Sam was kinda hoping his mom didn't catch on to that little ploy. If she knew that the mere mention of sex from her would be worth a day's worth of chores, he'd be on his hands and knees until he went to college. 

Oh, god, not like that.

Firmly, Sam pushed all dirty thoughts out of his head and headed out to his car…where memories of the day before obligingly rolled back into his brain. With the door open, the garage was well-lit with morning sunlight, making his efforts from earlier in the week gorgeously visible. The car, which he'd hoped would be the source of his new, awesome life, was suddenly the epicenter of his newfound, completely unexpected sex life. 

Sam reached out and laid a hand on the hood, stroking over the spot where he'd been leaning when Bee had first kissed him. Where they'd sprawled out for their first round of happy, dirty sex. The metal was cool, glossy against his tracing fingertips, the yellow seemed more brilliant than the morning sunshine. Hours of work polishing had been worth more than he'd expected. 

"You are definitely something special," Sam murmured, resting his palm on the smooth hood. The chirp of his cell phone startled him and Sam pulled it out of his backpack, flipping it open curiously. 

The text message icon was flashing cheerily with a message from…Bmbbee. 

Bmbbee? Bombbee? What kind of name was that, anyway? Swedish?

There was only one sentence.  _Catch a ride?_

For just a second, his brain, once normal and undersexed, now perverted and still wanting sex, took an entirely different meaning from that. A meaning that involved hot, slippery flesh and nakedness, maybe even on a bed for a change. Although on the hood again would be a great second option…

Oh, wait. Probably a ride to school. Forcibly, Sam wrangled his hormones down to acceptable public levels. 

 _Sure_ , he texted back. 

~~*~~

Driving to school with Bee was both better and worse than Sam had expected. The blond boy had met him at the 7-11 on the corner, greeting him with that sweet, brilliant smile and the hot cup of double-sweet coffee with french vanilla creamer, Sam's favorite. Equal parts awesome and disturbing, since the coffee reminded Sam that Bee was still firmly in the category of creepy stalker and the smile reminded him of all those things that mouth could do. A curl of heat rose up from the region of Sam's crotch and he squirmed a little, uncomfortably, sipping at the coffee too quickly and burning his tongue.

The ride itself had been sadly uneventful. On one hand, Bee had been a little better behaved than Sam had anticipated. Stayed on his own side, didn't do more than sprawl in his seat and stare at Sam with a worshipful gaze. In other words, perfectly normal. On the other hand, that meant that he didn't spend the ride to school fending off groping hands and kisses. That was probably for the best as far as his reputation went; Sam was fairly sure he didn’t want to come out to both his mom and his school this week. 

His dick, however, seemed to think this was the worst idea ever. Sam wasn't sure he could even drive properly if he had to spread his legs further. Dull heat was throbbing between his legs and Bee was smirking at him, like he knew. 

Of course he knew. He was the stalker in this scenario.

Only, he didn't seem to be living up to the stalker creed because when they pulled into the school parking lot, Bee barely waited until the car stopped before he hopped out. Gave Sam a wink and a salute and then he was gone, disappearing into the crush of other kids dragging their asses into the school before first bell. 

Sam just sat there until his dick reluctantly acknowledged that nothing good was heading its way and subsided a little. Enough for him to walk, anyway, and Sam got out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. On his way from the parking lot, he saw Miles and gave a little wave. Miles jogged up to him, eyes narrowed with thoughtfulness that would probably shock the rest of the school. Grades aside, Miles was a hell of a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for. 

"Who's your new friend?" Miles asked, curiously.

"I wish I knew," Sam muttered, trudging into the door and heading towards his locker. Trust Miles to ask the question Sam had been wondering about for three days.

  
~~*~~

After a completely mind-blowing weekend, perhaps it was fate that his life return to its previous state of brain-numbingly normal. He'd had his moment of awesome and now it was back to being another faceless, middling student amongst hundreds of others just like him. Or so Sam was coming to believe, plodding his way to his next class in the clouded fog of dullness that enveloped them all. 

And what had he expected, anyway, Sam thought glumly. That his new status as Sex God to the Blond would be somehow visible, sparkling off of him like a glittery symbol of pure awesome? 

Not likely.

Even the one guy who was in the know didn’t seem much impressed. Not that Sam knew his schedule…or, well, anything about Bee other than he was A. New, B. Did Not Talk and C. Gay and/or Bisexual. 

As far as information went, the puzzle Sam was putting together so far had two edges and a piece of a cloud. Not much to go on. 

He wasn't even entirely sure what grade Bee was in. It  _was_  possible he wasn't a senior; he wasn't in any of Sam's classes and there were junior exchange students…come to think of it, an age wouldn't be a bad tidbit of information to have. Just because Bee was the stalker in their relationship didn't mean Sam had to be completely in the dark. 

Sam plodded along the hallway, lost in his thoughts. His next class was independent study, not exactly the greatest class to have after lunch since so far this semester Sam had an A-average in studying the insides of his eyelids. Close as he was to working out a unified nap theory, Sam suspected one of these days he might actually have to write something and he rather hoped his bullshit meter was at full-charge when it happened. 

Already half-asleep, Sam didn't have time for more than a startled yelp when a hand grabbed his arm and he was yanked from a well-lit hallway into a room of much dark and loudness.

"Wha—" the hell, his mind finished for him because his mouth was suddenly busy, another mouth covering it, wet and clever. Sam opened to it helplessly, knowing without seeing who it was. What did he need to see for, who else would be feeling him up in the middle of a school day, pressing hot kisses into his mouth and then down his throat, teeth grazing sensitive flesh hard enough to bruise and Sam didn't care.

Sam was entirely too busy going from sleepy to horny in less time than it would have taken his car to hit 60 mph. 

Strong hands suddenly slid down his thighs, catching him under the knees and lifting him. Sam had enough sense left to be shocked; Bee was shorter than he was and he was still carrying Sam easily, walking through the dark room like he had night vision until Sam felt a wall behind him, Bee still holding him up as he pressed up against him. 

Wherever they were was steamy-warm, boiler room, maybe, and Sam did not care because Bee's hands were strong on the backs of his thighs, one hand sliding down to Sam's knee as he ground against him, oh, fuck hard, and it felt so good. 

Sam made some sound, some kind of garbled groan, his hands already tight in Bee's hair as he kissed him. This, this was what he'd been waiting for all day, some anxious little thread of anticipation winding through him, ratcheting higher and higher until it brought him here. Pinned against a wall and pushing his tongue against Bee's, almost clumsy in his eagerness because this he wanted. So much. Fuck normalcy, fuck stalking, to hell with everything else because all he wanted was for Bee to never stop.

Not that Bee was acting like stopping was an option. He never hesitated, his mouth on Sam's greedy and eager, catching his bottom lip and sucking until Sam shuddered, tongue curling against Bee's. One hand slid between them, fumbling, and Sam exhaled in relief as his pants loosened, Bee tugging them out of the way until his cock was bare in the smoggy, humid air around them. For one moment he felt naked, exposed, and then Bee was crowding into him again, the hot slide of his own cock against Sam's dragging another startled gasp free. 

A firm hand was abruptly over his mouth, muffling any sound. 

"Shhh," Damp against his ear, more breath than voice. Through the ticking and hissing from the pipes, Sam suddenly realized he could hear movement that wasn't theirs. Oh, fuck, the janitor. It should have paralyzed any lust in him, should have frozen his blood, Jesus, getting caught by his mom was one thing but…

Except Bee hadn't stopped. Kept his hand over Sam's mouth and he was moving, sliding their hips together, his other hand still firm on Sam's thigh, holding him up. Holding him still for Bee to ride against, pushing against him with a rhythmic roll of his hips and body. Helplessly, Sam clutched at his shoulders, hands scrambling at his back and he could feel warm strain of the muscles there, bunching as they tightened and released, Bee rocking them together.

The hand on his thigh tightened, tugging, and after a moment of bleary confusion Sam managed to lift his legs, wrapping them around Bee's waist and hooking his ankles together, and oh, fuck, that was perfect. Just enough much-needed leverage for him to arch into every slide of Bee's hips against his own, the perfect friction of his erection against Bee's. Their bellies were slickening with equal parts sweat and need, Bee dragging his tongue across Sam's ear, the edge of his teeth worrying the soft lobe just to the edge of pain. His gasp against Bee's palm seemed loud even in the noisy machinery surrounding them.

Somewhere in this dark room, the normal world was ticking on without them, people outside still walking through the hallways, moving through their routines as they waited for the bell that would set them free. It was fading into the background, Sam's breathing locomotive-fast against Bee's palm, and he opened his eyes as Bee pulled back, just a little, met avid green eyes with his own, their gazes locked as Bee watched him. Even as Sam had to close his eyes, biting his tongue to stifle a cry that even Bee's hand wouldn't have blocked. Even as he shook, his heartbeat thrumming hard in his ears, his hips slamming into Bee's as he tightened his legs and jerked Bee against him. Even as he came, the light behind his eyes going warm and golden and he choked off moans, felt the warm spurts between them, slick and hot. 

Even then, he felt Bee watching him. 

Sam sagged against the wall, panting as best he could through the hand over his mouth, hot breath, and then softest sound against his ear, barely louder than a moan, Bee trembling against him as Sam stroked the sweaty mass of his hair, his back, anything he could reach. 

He let Bee slump against him until his legs began to tingle uncomfortably. With a wince, Sam dragged his legs down the back of Bee's thighs, slowly, searching for the ground with his toes. Bee's head snapped up, green eyes boring into his fiercely, his grip suddenly painfully tight. Sam swallowed, hard. Jesus, what was he getting into here?

Then Bee blinked a little, his face easing into that sweet smile and finally, he uncovered Sam's mouth, only to press their lips together again in a gentle kiss, his tongue cautious until Sam responded, sighing into the warm sweetness of it.

Really, it was just like Sam had always suspected; normalcy was way overrated. 

~~*~~

The rest of the day passed in an unfamiliar fog, no longer the bored student and more like a…what? Bemused, love-struck idiot, probably. Sam wasn't sure what, if anything, anyone else noticed, and he was pretty sure he didn't care. 

After Bee sneaked them both out of the boiler room without mishap, Sam had stumbled off to his next class, his head happily wrapped in clouds that no one else could see. The fog didn’t lift until after last bell and Sam was wandering out to his car, his eyes scanning the parking lot for a growingly familiar blond head. He didn't have to look far; Bee was leaning against the hood of his car, one foot on the bumper as he sprawled back on it. 

A little bemused, Sam decided Bee looked good on yellow.

Sam stopped in front of him, a little awkwardly. "Need a lift home?"

To his surprise, his phone chirped, and Sam fumbled for it with an apologetic smile. Only to have it fall away at the message.

 _No, I have a ride._

Sam blinked at the message, then at Bee, who was only smiling innocently at him. "How did you—" Sam blurted, only to be cut off by the loud beep of a horn.

For once, he wasn't the only one staring, a small crowd of students gawking curiously at the ambulance in their parking lot. The front door opened and a man in full paramedic gear hopping out, scowling as he strode right up to Sam and Bee. Dark hair and startlingly blue eyes in a craggy face that made Sam think a little of Harrison Ford.

"All right, I'm here," he said gruffly, "Now get in."

Adding in to the weirdness, Bee stomped up to the old guy, gesturing angrily. Whatever he was saying, the guy didn't seem impressed, only crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back. 

"Because Optimus wouldn't let me scan a hearse, that's why!" the man snapped, blue eyes glaring into green.

Sam only stood, along with the most of the driving senior class of his school, staring at the surrealness of this one-sided conversion. He supposed he'd have to get used to it until he'd picked up a little more sign language, and that was something else his mom had had a few things to say about. At least on that subject she seemed to be right; Sam was burning with curiosity. 

In the end, Bee seemed to give up, scrubbed both hands over his face and it was somehow charming to see him actually embarrassed for once. He made another sign, this one weak and visibly desperate. 

"Oh, right," the man grunted. "You’re Witwicky, eh?" He gave Sam a once-over that made him resist the urge to squirm. "Not bad, I guess. A little on the short side."

Um, what? Sam decided if Bee could glare at this guy, it was fair game. "If you'd rather he hang out with Sasquatch, send him out to the football field and he can take his pick. He'll have to learn how to communicate in grunts though; I don't think any of them can read."

For just a second, the scowl between them heated to volcanic proportions, then the man grinned suddenly. "He'll do. I'm Ratchet, by the way. Bee is staying with me for right now. Host parent, or whatever the hell you people call it."

"Ratchet?" Sam repeated blankly.

"Is that a problem?" Ratchet said politely, his expression stating clearly that there'd better not be.

"No, no, it's just…different."

"Oh, and Witwicky is just a bastion of normalcy," Ratchet rolled his eyes, then snapped his fingers at Bumblebee. "Get in, kid, we've got places to be."

Bee sighed, a gust of breath, and this time he went, hesitating in front of Sam. Like he knew kissing right now wasn't the greatest idea but the temptation was still there. Suddenly, Sam wanted that more than he'd thought possible and he was entirely too close to just tossing out a mental fuck it and seeing how Bee tasted when he was surrounded by gaping high schoolers. 

"I'm supposed to invite you both to dinner," Sam blurted out desperately, going with the lesser of two stupids. 

Bee gave him a bright smile but Ratchet's expression shifted to one of horror. "No, no, absolutely not, Bumblebee, I said I would put in an appearance, not—"

Ratchet trailed off as Bee turned a pleading look his way, "Bee, I—" 

Sam just watched, bemused, as Ratchet blew out a sharp breath. Nice to know he wasn't the only sucker where Bee…Bumblebee?...was concerned. 

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll go make nice with the rabble. Now, if you please…?" He gestured exaggeratedly at the ambulance and Bee went, giving Sam a last sweet smile over his shoulder before he climbed in. 

Standing on the sidewalk, Sam watched them go, only barely noticing the stares of his classmates. Then he exhaled, shakily. Normalcy was still overrated but now that the weird family was starting to join in…

His phone beeped again, another text message popping up, from Bmbbee. _He'll make as nice as he ever does, I promise. See you tonight!_

Bumblebee. Well, that did make more sense than Bombbee, anyway. 

With a shake of his head, Sam climbed into the car and started it up, heading straight for home as per directed by his mother, since he now had to tell her they'd be needing more garlic bread.

Somehow, he didn't think dinner with his boyfriend/stalker, his host parent, and his parents was going to be any definition of the word normal. Freaky, maybe, awkward, certainly. Normal? Not a chance. 

Maybe that only made how Sam was looking forward to it that much worse.

Whistling a little, Sam startled as the radio flipped on, Jason Mraz flaring out. With a mental shrug, Sam sang along, not quite speeding, as the singer crooned about his right to be loved. 

Hey, it could happen. 

-fin


End file.
